


Second Chances

by Cabbagiez



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: 1920s, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Bad Decisions, Character Death Fix, Dancing and Singing, Family, Gen, Guitars, Post-Canon, Sort of? - Freeform, Tags May Change, Time Travel Fix-It, Trains, Travel, technically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27671402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cabbagiez/pseuds/Cabbagiez
Summary: When the travelling performers, Héctor and Ernesto, were preparing to move on to Mexico City, the last thing they expected was to find a child all on his own. When Miguel started home from school, the last thing he expected was to fall into the 1920s, only a few months before his great great grandfather's untimely death. As the two welcome him into their group, Miguel decides to save him- and discovers more in the process.
Relationships: Ernesto De La Cruz & Héctor Rivera, Ernesto De La Cruz & Miguel Rivera, Héctor Rivera & Miguel Rivera
Comments: 9
Kudos: 43





	Second Chances

“ _ Amigo! _ How do you think our next performance will go?” A man dressed in a traditional Mariachi outfit asked his companion.

“We won’t find out if we’re late, Héctor!” His companion protested, angrily marching forward and making the man flinch.

“ _ Lo siento,  _ Ernesto! I lost track of the time!” Héctor jogged forward, matching Ernesto’s pace. “I had to sing, you know that! Always at the same time-“

“And yet you won’t let me sing that song? It’s beautiful, Héctor, I could make it a sensation!” 

Héctor elbowed him. “It is for my daughter alone, you know this…”

Ernesto shook his head. “I’m just stressed, Héctor, I’m sorry- let me make it up to you after the show!”

“Alright, but don’t go blowing all our money on more drinks!” Héctor replied, laughing. He stopped. There was a clattering from an alley, a boy yelping in pain. “Did you hear that, amigo?”

“Does it matter? We have a show to get to!”

“That sounded like a boy, Ernesto. You go on ahead- I need to find him,” Héctor replied. He ran to the source of the sound before his friend could get a word out.

Ernesto sighed, rubbing his face and running after him.  _ That man will be the death of me, _ he thought, shaking his head.

Héctor ran past an alley before backing up again, walking in to see a boy- around thirteen or fourteen -laying on the ground, dressed in unfamiliar clothes and blinking rapidly. “ _ ¡Oye! _ Ernesto, over here!” He yelled, before very carefully approaching him, getting on his level. “Hey,  _ chamaco,  _ can you hear me?” Héctor asked softly.

The boy tilted his head in the direction of the voice. “ _ Sí _ ,” he replied softly, trying to get up.

“What’s your name,  _ chamaco? _ ” He asked. The boy fell with a yelp, Héctor catching him. “Woah! Woah, easy, kid, easy. What’s your name?”

“Miguel,” he said. “Where am I?”

“You’re in Puebla,  _ niño _ ,” Héctor said. “ _ Mucho gusto,  _ Miguel. My name is Héctor. Come on, let me carry you to where we are going.”

“O-okay,” Miguel said. He held onto the man as he picked him up gently. Something was familiar here, though his dizzy mind couldn’t quite grasp it.

“Héctor! There you are!  _ Dios mío, _ don’t run off like that, we need to-“ Ernesto stopped in his tracks. “Oh no. We are not bringing a boy with us-“

“He can rest backstage! Look around, do  _ you _ see any safe place for a boy around here?” Héctor glared at his friend in that moment, with an intensity he had never seen. He gulped.

“Alright, alright- do you at least know his name?” Ernesto asked.

“Miguel,” Miguel replied. 

“Well, Miguel, I am Ernesto. I suppose you’re going to get to see backstage, then- come on!” Ernesto pushed Héctor forward, and as the two men ran to the venue Miguel fell asleep in Héctor’s arms. 

* * *

Miguel shook himself awake, the sounds of guitars from outside the room he was in echoing. He pulled a blanket off of him, looking around. Nothing about the decor was familiar, it all looked… old. Old, but new.  _ Like the Land Of The Dead, _ he thought, gulping and looking at his hands- Normal. Human hands. He was alive. His mind was racing- retracing his steps. He was walking home, then he wasn’t, he was falling- Then… Miguel shook his head, disregarding what had happened as a dream. There was no way! And yet, the voices funneling in from onstage…

“ _ The loco that you make me, it is just un poco crazy! The sense that you’re not making- _ “

“ _ The liberties you’re taking! _ ”

“ _Leaves my cabeza shaking!_ _You’re just, un poco loco!_ ”

Miguel gasped. “Wait…” he peeked out, looking at them both. “That’s Ernesto de la Cruz! And-“

One of the men spun around onstage, calling out and laughing- and letting Miguel get a glimpse of his guitar.

“ _ Papá Héctor! _ ” He exclaimed. “But if- if that’s Héctor, and he’s alive, and so is Ernesto, then-“

Applause erupted, interrupting his thoughts. He backed up, sitting where he had awoken and pulling the blanket around himself again. It was  _ cold! _ The pair came offstage, laughing and holding each other by the shoulder. It made Miguel feel a bit ill.

“The crowd  _ adored _ you, Héctor! All of them screaming  _ ‘love me, Héctor! Love me! _ ’ With their eyes!” Ernesto said, laughing.

“ _ Sí!  _ And me screaming back, ‘ _ No chance! I am married! _ ’ With mine!” Héctor laughed, “And what about you,  _ amigo _ ? The way you sang brought some of them to tears!”

“Are you complimenting me, Héctor, or insulting me?” Ernesto laughed too, taking off his sombrero. 

“Complimenting, of course!” The skinnier man looked around, eyes landing on Miguel. “Ah! Miguel,  _ chamaco, _ you’re awake!  _ ¿Cómo te sientes? _ ”

“Ah- still dizzy, but I’m okay, Héctor,” Miguel replied. The men sat on either side of him, Héctor putting his guitar away and Ernesto changing into street shoes. 

“That’s good! How much did you hear of the concert?” Ernesto asked. 

“Just the end of  _ Un Poco Loco! _ You sounded great- both of you!” Miguel replied. Despite everything, he still gushed a little- hearing Papá Héctor in his prime was absolutely wonderful. 

“ _ Gracias, niño- _ Say! You know the names!” Ernesto observed. “Are you a fan?”

“Heh, sure am,” Miguel replied, scratching his neck.  _ Not of you, though, _ he thought. “I’ve heard a lot of your music!”

“I’d love to know what you think of it,” Héctor said gently, ruffling the boy’s hair. “I can’t get much honest critique around here, with Ernesto  _ literally _ singing my praises!”

“Hey, you deserve it,  _ amigo! _ ” Ernesto insisted. “Either way, tell us! I wish to hear it too-“

“Later, though,” Héctor insisted. “First we’re going back to our room- it’s our last night in Puebla. You can take my bed if you like,  _ niño _ ?”

Miguel froze. “You don’t have to do that,” he said softly.

“I insist, Miguel. This place is no place for a lost child on his own! You’re from Santa Cecilia as well,  _ ¿no? _ ”

“How did you know?” Miguel asked.

“Your boots. My wife Imelda is the only one who makes beautiful boots like that. But the point is, this place is nothing like that small town- I couldn’t leave you here on your own,” Héctor said. Miguel went quiet.

_ If I stay… I could help him, _ he thought to himself. “Okay, I’ll stay,” he replied, getting up. “I don’t need your bed though, honest.”

“No chance you’re sleeping on the floor on my watch,  _ chamaco! _ ” Héctor declared, picking up his guitar case. “Come on, Ernesto- let’s get some food then head back?”

“Good idea, Héctor!” Ernesto replied, putting his sombrero back on and helping Miguel up. He didn’t notice the boy recoiling at first from his touch. “We can get food, go back to our room, and discuss which city we will go to next!”

* * *

They left together, picking food up from a market- Héctor had insisted so they could get back sooner. “We’ll have to get you some new clothing along the way,” Héctor said, putting an arm around Miguel. “Don’t worry, our room is very close!”

“Sounds great,” Miguel said. “I should wait to start eating until after we get there, right?”

“Right,” Ernesto said. “Street food can get, well, unpleasant at times after all.”

“ _ ¡Sí! _ Remember early on, Ernesto, with the  _ chorizo? _ ” Héctor asked, Miguel cringing. He faltered in his story. “Don’t worry,  _ chamaco,  _ a day in bed and he was right as rain!” He explained, patting his back. 

“Oh, good,” Miguel said quietly. “Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you two.”

“Did I strike a nerve?” Héctor asked, worried. “Don’t worry about food poisoning,  _ niño _ , it isn’t such a big deal!”

“It’s okay,” Miguel said. “It’s just-“ Gulp. “My  _ abuelo… _ ”

“Oh, Miguel…” Ernesto said gently. “I am very sorry. What of your other family?”

“Not here,” Miguel replied.  _ I’m not lying… technically. _

“Gone from the revolution?” Ernesto asked. Héctor elbowed him in the ribs.

“It’s okay,  _ niño- _ you can stay with us for now!” He said, ruffling Miguel’s hair. “As long as you remember them, they are not gone,  _ niño,  _ remember that- Now- here we are!” They approached a building of rooms facing outward, Héctor passing his guitar to Ernesto so he could unlock the door. 

The room was a little larger than expected, two plain looking beds on the far end. There was a dresser and vanity against one wall, two living room chairs against the other. There was a toilet in a room beside the door, but no shower. The pair’s suitcases were on top of their beds, shut and latched. “I hope you like it, Miguel,” Héctor said, taking back his guitar and letting the other two in. He latched the door once they were both inside.

“Like it? It’s  _ great! _ ” Miguel exclaimed. He walked in fully, sitting on Héctor’s bed. “Thank you both, seriously.”

Héctor chuckled. “Now, why couldn’t you react this way, Ernesto?” He joked. “It’s no worry, Miguel! Eat up now, we have a train to catch tomorrow morning!” He sat beside him, Ernesto sitting on his own bed, and they ate together.

“Strange question,” Miguel began, swallowing his last bite.

“Go ahead, amigo,” Ernesto said, “We’re performers, there’s no such thing!”

“What month is it?”

“That is a strange question,” Ernesto murmured in response, finally earning a good laugh from the boy. 

“Do you not know?” Héctor asked.

“Nope,” was Miguel’s very simple reply. Héctor shrugged. 

_ The boy must have been on his own for a while. _ “It is… September, Miguel,” Héctor replied. “We lose track too, don’t worry.”

_ September…  _ “What year?” 

“ _ Caramba, _ Miguel, how long have you been out here?” Ernesto asked. 

“Long enough not to know the year,” Miguel replied.  _ Which isn’t too long, thankfully, _ he thought.

“It’s 1921,” Ernesto replied, “and if you’ve been out there that long, I wish I had gotten you more food!” He reached out to pat Miguel’s shoulder, stopping when he flinched away. “No touching?”

“No, just- warn me?” The boy squeaked out. His eyes went wide as he said that. Ernesto softened.

“Of course, Miguel,” he said. “I will.”

“Both of us will,” Héctor said, smiling. “Now! We are going to change out of these suits, and you are going to go to sleep.”

“You better sleep too!” Miguel protested. He mimicked Héctor’s voice, “We have a train to catch tomorrow morning!”

Héctor laughed. “We will, we will. But first, you.” He pulled the covers up for Miguel, helping him with his boots and laying him down. “Do you need anything? Water, a story, a song?”

“He’s fourteen, Héctor, I think he-“

“ _ Agua, por favor, _ ” Miguel said. “I don’t need a song, it’s okay.” 

“Alright,  _ chamaco. _ I’ll get you the drink!” He pulled the covers over Miguel gently. Héctor grabbed a glass and a bottle of water from his suitcase, opening it and pouring him some. “How is that?”

“ _ Perfecto, _ ” Miguel said, taking the drink and sipping it, placing it on his nightstand after.

“You rest, Miguel, in the morning we will get going,” Héctor said. He patted his head gently, and the boy drifted off to sleep. 

Héctor smiled to himself, before turning to look at Ernesto. “Do you want to change first, amigo?”

“I will,” Ernesto replied, taking some clothes from his suitcase. “What are we going to do about Miguel, Héctor?”

“For now? The best we can,” was Héctor’s simple reply. “We can’t do much, but we can keep him safe.”

“Anything would be better than the way he had been living, I suppose,” Ernesto agreed. 

“Even this,” Héctor said. “Go change, Ernesto.”

Ernesto nodded. “ _ Buenas noches, _ Héctor.”

“ _ Buenas noches, _ Ernesto,” he replied, settling in with a smile to his friend. 

* * *

Miguel woke up. “Morning, Mamá-“ He looked around. Ernesto in one bed, Héctor asleep on a chair. Héctor hadn’t even changed out of his suit. He sighed. “ _ Buenas días, _ you two,” he said loudly, getting up. He grabbed the clock. “It’s six in the morning, when do we need to get the train?”

Ernesto rolled over, falling out of the bed. “Gah- oh! Morning, Miguel!” He said, getting up. “How do you feel?”

“Better than I was last night. Look, Ernesto- Héctor never changed,” Miguel said, pointing and giggling a bit.

“No, he didn’t,” Ernesto agreed, laughing too. He shook Héctor gently. “Wake up, amigo, we have to get going.”

“Imelda-“ Héctor muttered.

“Nono,  _ Ernesto _ ,” Ernesto clarified. “Wake up, there  _ are  _ children present!”

Héctor woke up at that, going bright red. “Ah- Morning,  _ chamaco. _ Apologies- you heard nothing?”

“Not a thing,” Miguel said. “It’s six in the morning, how-“

“Early do we need to be for the train? We have a good amount of time left, Miguel- enough to get ourselves some food,” Héctor replied, pushing himself up. “Not enough for more clothing for you, but Mexico City will be just fine for that!”

“Let me get dressed first,” Ernesto said, “then you change your clothes, amigo. How did you forget that?”

“I don’t know,” Héctor admitted, laughing. “Get dressed already, I don’t want to be wearing this all day!”

“Alright, alright, I’m getting dressed,” Ernesto replied, grabbing some clothing from his suitcase and going to the bathroom again. Héctor sat beside Miguel on his bed.

“How did you sleep, Miguel?” He asked, passing the boy his boots and helping him with them.

“I slept okay. Dreamt of my family though… that wasn’t fun,” Miguel replied, curling up once he had his boots on. Héctor reached to put his arm around him, hesitating. “You can,” he assured the man, giving him a little smile.

“ _ Ay, niño… _ that sort of thing does not get easier,” Héctor replied as he did so. “But dreams are good, remembering is good- even if it hurts. It’s not the same as you,  _ niño _ , but I dreamt of my family, too.”

“I heard,” Miguel joked, grinning, “of your wife Imelda, right?”

“ _ Sí,  _ and her brothers Oscar and Felipe, and… my daughter Coco,” Héctor replied. He went to his suitcase, opening it and taking out a little red book, and a pencil. He flipped to a page not occupied by music, lyrics- Miguel had to force himself not to gasp -and began to sketch them all. “They would like you very much, Miguel. You have Imelda’s wit… the twins’ fast mouth- my daughter’s smile!” The man smiled brightly at Miguel as he showed him the sketch. “Maybe you’ll meet them- again, I mean. Surely you already know them a bit, since your boots-“

“I’d love to,” Miguel said happily, “one day?”

“Fantastic! I-“

“Héctor, the bathroom is free!” Ernesto called out. 

“Ah,  _ gracias _ , Ernesto!” Héctor said. He got up, grabbing some clothing from his suitcase and entering the bathroom as his friend left.

Ernesto was dressed casually- well, relatively speaking, -with a white shirt and slacks, and a pair of good shoes. He rolled up the sleeves, turning to Miguel. “What do you think?”

“I think it looks nice, but your shoes could use a shine,” Miguel replied. “If I had polish, I could do them for you?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, Miguel- but thank you,” Ernesto said. He started packing his suitcase, shutting it. “Are you all packed?” He asked, before remembering.

“Hmm… I’ve got my clothes, so… Yep!” Miguel laughed, hopping off the bed. 

“Oh, right,” Ernesto replied, chuckling. “You and Héctor act very much alike, you know.”

“We do?” Miguel asked, rocking on his feet a little nervously.

“ _ Sí, _ you both are ridiculous!” Ernesto said, laughing. Miguel laughed too, but it wasn’t very hearty. “Is something the matter?”

“No, not at all, Ernesto,” Miguel replied, tugging on one of his sleeves.

“Come now,  _ niño, _ it’s okay,” the man said, scratching his neck. “You do not have to be nervous around me- I would never dream of hurting you!”

Héctor’s voice piped up from the bathroom, “Ernesto, that isn’t comforting!”

His brows furrowed. “I guess it isn’t,” he murmured, “but- you get the point, no?”

“ _ Sí, _ I get the point,” Miguel replied.  _ And I hope you aren’t lying.  _ “Do you- tell everyone that?” He asked.

“Not everyone,” Ernesto replied. He then realized that this also sounded rather unpleasant. “You’d be surprised, in the past few years, how often I’ve had to say that.”

“And every time it’s never helped!” Héctor said as he came out, dressed in an outfit Miguel remembered. 

_ He looks like his photo, the one he gave me, _ Miguel thought, gulping gently before focusing back in.

“Come now, Héctor, it did once!”

“ _ Sí, _ and then Imelda slapped you, because you said it to me!” Héctor replied, laughing. “Ready,  _ chamaco? _ ”

“Ready, Héctor!” Miguel said. Héctor shut his suitcase and picked it up, slinging his guitar over his shoulders. Miguel took his outstretched hand, smiling up at the two men. “Let’s go?”

“Let’s!” Héctor said. Ernesto opened the door for them, and the three misfits from Santa Cecilia made their way rather smoothly to the station.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed this! I really have a blast writing these guys.


End file.
